


It's Just Dinner

by iamavacado



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: F/M, Fake Dating, Fake Relationship, Gen, M/M, Multi, Multichapter, catching feelings, fake dating for a dinner turns into real feelings, quarentine has ruined me and made me rewatch the office, so now im here, takes place roughly in s4, thats the plan anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29384400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamavacado/pseuds/iamavacado
Summary: To keep his wild oats and save his farm, Dwight has to have dinner with his mother to convince her that he's still with someone. Angela broke up with him months ago, and no one else will pretend to be with him for one night. Luckily, he convinces Jim to have dinner with his mother for just one night. Though, the fake flirting and fake relationship and fake dating starts to feel...a little less fake as time goes on.
Relationships: Jim Halpert/Dwight Schrute, Pam Beesly/Jim Halpert
Comments: 16
Kudos: 33





	1. Wild Oats

**Author's Note:**

> Don't judge me, okay? I just think it would be a fun idea. Feel free to read it!!

Dwight held the phone to his ear with his shoulder, so he could type in the customer’s order at the same time. 

“And you said that was the double-bond cream white printer paper?” he asked. His mouse hovered over the box that would check the order type. The customer repeated their selection and he nodded, checking the boxes as necessary. “So, that’ll be sent out to you around the 15th. Right now we have a backorder for this product so--”

Suddenly, his computer dinged. It was the sound of his email going off. No issue. He switched the phone to his other ear and quickly clicked the order to complete it, and then switched tabs to his email without skipping a beat. “That sounds great. I’ll be contacting you soon to confirm.” He refreshed the page to see an email from his mother sitting at the top of his inbox. 

At this, his brows furrowed. “O-okay, will do,” he muttered to the customer. He hung up and clicked the email. An email from his mother. That was strange. Last time he checked, his mother didn’t have access to email, much less a computer. Where did she go to get access to the internet, anyway? He clicked the email. 

_Dearest Dwight,_

_I hope you know trying to send this to you has been no easy feat. I had to go into town and stay at the library for over two hours trying to figure out how to get this to you. The air in here is stale, and someone with a nose ring tried to help me. It’s horrible here. What is “Gmail” anyway? I thought this was called E-mail. Are they different?_

_Anyway, I am sending this to you since your cousin has told me it’s pretty much all you will answer. I tried calling your phone, but you’ve stopped answering my calls. Mose tells me your phone got trampled by one of your mules, but somehow I think this is a story. I know you are close, I wouldn’t put it past him covering for you._

_Still, I thought I would send this to you anyway hoping you would answer. I wanted to have dinner with you and your new girlfriend. New by my standards, anyway. Your uncle sent you your wild oats months ago, and you barely said thank you. As you should know, the sending of wild oats should be followed by your new girlfriend meeting your parents, also known as me._

_I demand that you follow Schrute tradition in letting your girlfriend become acquainted with me. If not, I’ll be forced to take the oats back--if you have already used them, then you should have to pay me back with another batch of oats. Though I don’t want it to come to this, since no oats have been returned in our entire Schrute family tree--except for Cousin Bruce. But you know what happened to him._

_I wish to hear from you soon. Now that you have my “email” you can ‘gmail’ me with ease._

_Best regards,  
Mother._

Dwight stared at the screen for what felt like eternity. He could feel blood rushing to his face, and the last thing he would want to do is looked flushed in front of the likes of _Jim_ \--he might interpret it as embarrassment. Even if it was. He stood up suddenly, his computer rattling ever so slightly. 

“Anyone want coffee? Okay good I’ll get some,” he said, rushing into the kitchen. He passed accounting on the way, and spotted Angela as she sat in her chair, wearing a ruffled gray blouse. One of his favorites. She clocked him staring and raised an eyebrow, her pen hovering over the document she was writing on. 

He made a face at her, and nodded his head towards the kitchen. She must have seen how flustered he looked, so she put her pen down--that was enough of an indication to him that she would follow.

Dwight pushed the door to the kitchen open and stood at the counter, leaning against it with his palms down. Though, he pulled them back up when he noticed there was something sticky on it. His hand came up with white sauce on it. He sniffed it. Tzatziki. _Kevin._ If you’re going to have Greek food, can you at least _clean up_ after yourself? He washed his hands at the sink as Angela walked in. 

She didn’t look at him, and instead walked straight to the fridge, opening it and peering inside. “What is it?” she asked, seeming to talk to the salad sitting on the top shelf. 

Dwight continued to keep the water running, using washing his hands as a cover. “My mother just emailed me.”

“I thought she didn’t have access to the internet.”

“She doesn’t. She had to go to the library. She asked me about…” he hesitated, though he didn’t know why. “About meeting you.”

Angela stuck her hand in the fridge, pretending to be looking for something. “Meeting me? Why?”

Dwight turned off the water and grabbed a paper towel. “She thinks we’re still dating.”

“She thinks we’re--” she looked at him briefly, then averted her gaze towards the fridge once more. “I’m _engaged.”_

“I know that, don’t you think I know that? I just didn’t tell her that.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t understand.” He tossed the paper towel in the garbage and stood at the coffee maker, pressing buttons. “I’d have to return my wild oats. That hasn’t happened in the Schrute family for over 100 years. I would be humiliated--my father’s brother could take back the farm. It would be a disaster.”

“I thought you were allowed to sell them.”

“Not if the reason for the breakup involves the death of an animal.” He focused especially hard on the coffee pot as he said this, feeling a hot sting in his chest. Angela exhaled sharply, no doubt reminded of her long lost Sprinkles. 

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you.” Angela’s voice had gone firm. She grabbed a sauce packet out of the fridge, fiddled with it, and then put it back. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I thought maybe we could--” the words were caught in his mouth. He forced them out. “I thought you could just go with me to dinner with my mother--”

“Dwight!”

“--just for a night! It would just be pleasantries, I would make a delicious beet salad for you.”

“I don’t _want_ your beet salad, Dwight. I am not going to pretend to be dating you knowing what you did to Sprinkles.”

“Angela, you don’t understand what it would mean.”

Angela shut the fridge with a hard thud. The cereal boxes on top teetered. “I don’t care, Dwight. You should have told her when it happened. I am not going to lie to your family just so you can save face.” She started walking out of the kitchen. Dwight grabbed her arm.

“What if I gave you some goat’s milk? Huh?” Dwight offered. “I know it’s your favorite.”

Angela tugged her arm away and walked out of the kitchen with a scoff. He was left inside, staring at her as she walked back to her desk. 

Dwight looked out into the bullpen, watching all of his subordinates go about their drudgery. If they thought they knew what Dwight’s wrath was, they had no idea what would happen should his mother descend on this office. 

He loved his mother. He did. She was a strong, wide shouldered, large handed farm worker, and she helped the farm stay afloat when father got kicked in the back by one of their horses. And he would love to have dinner with her. 

Just not with her knowing that the person he said he’d bring dinner to was someone he broke up with over six months ago. 

He poured a cup of coffee, even though he had one at his desk. Just to give his hands something to do as he thought. There was no way he could face his mother with no partner around his arm. And cancelling dinner didn’t seem like an option either, since now that his mother knows his email, she knows his signoff, which gave the address of Dunder Mifflin’s office. If she wanted to, she could march right up and drag him out by his tie. 

What could he do? He held the coffee in his hands and let the heat tingle his fingertips. Hm. 

He would have to find a replacement. 

Not permanently. He could find a proper partner for good after whenever he pleased, but all he really needed was to charm someone into coming to dinner with him, just for one night. Someone to impress mother and convince her that he was with someone. Then he could tell her they broke up amicably and he could keep his oats. There, name saved. Legacy maintained. Farm kept. 

But to do this, he needed to get someone to agree to it. And he didn’t want to go through strangers--there was only so much goat milk he could use as a bribe. Preferably, it would be someone he knows. But who..?

He eyed those in the office, seeing if anyone would be worthy enough. Pretty much none of them would be, but he would just have to get them through one evening. Even one of _them_ could manage an evening, right?

Dwight looked at Angela, but she was out of the equation. She pointedly ignored him, answering a nonexistent call. He looked at Oscar. Hm. Possible. But it was unlikely he’d agree, seeing as his farm was, as Oscar quoted, “the most foul smelling place he’d ever encountered.” Kevin was a definite no. 

Meredith was a viable option. She was tall, strong, brash, and could hold her liquor. She _could_ pass as appropriate. Though, she had a mouth on her that was not easily contained. And if she made one of her inane sex jokes in front of his mother, he’d run her over himself. So he dismissed her as an option too. 

His eyes swept over reception. Erin wasn’t a good idea either. She was so obnoxious--if he brought her in front of his mother, she’d take the farm back oats or not. Andy was a no too, since he was “engaged” just like Angela. Or, engaged to Angela. Whatever. Stanley was a no. Phyllis was a no. Creed? Don’t make him laugh. 

He glanced over his shoulder towards the annex. Kelly was an _absolute_ no. And there’s no way she’d let him take the temp for a night. Toby was too meek, a mere child when compared to the height of himself and his mother. He needed someone who was at least _near_ his own height. It had to be believable. 

Dwight looked forward again, and his eyes landed on Pam. She was typing away at her computer, eyes narrowed and focused. He swallowed, and opened the kitchen door, coffee in hand. He didn’t want it--it was made as a cover. As he passed accounting, he set it on Oscar’s desk. Oscar looked up at him, annoyed, but didn’t say anything. He just pushed it to the side. 

Dwight made slow steps towards Pam’s desk, thinking through her merits. She was small, birdlike, and would make a lowly farmhand in the eyes of his mother. Though, that night on his farm proved that she was capable of at least _holding_ a manure shovel. She was strong, given her minute frame. Very short, though. Very. He was double her size. 

And she was quite meek, too. Rarely spoke her mind. He could only imagine what she would be like in front of his mother, who would likely grill her on her experiences with Dwight. She would ask rather personal questions regarding her relationship with Dwight, and he wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep it together, especially considering it took her about 4 years to admit that she _liked_ Jim. God, what childish behavior. 

By the time he made it all the way to her desk, he’d already cleared his mind of her as a possibility. He sat down, deflated, as he looked at the email from his mother. That was everyone, wasn’t it? What would he do now? 

Briefly, he put his head in his hands, taking a deep breath. Something had to work. Maybe Michael would--no he wouldn’t. God, he should have never reduced himself to this position. He was a Schrute! Schrutes didn’t beg people, they didn’t try to find work arounds to save face. 

Yet here he was. 

“Actually, there’s a discount going on for that, so lemme get that set up for you right now.”

Dwight looked over to see Jim on the phone with someone. Jim glanced over, and gave a small smile of greeting. Dwight looked back down at his desk. 

His head snapped back up. 

Before he even knew what he was doing, he was typing a reply to his mother. 

_Mother,_

_The mule had taken out my phone, as Mose told you. I’m sorry for not getting back to you sooner. I’d love to have dinner with you--but you must forgive me, I made a mistake when telling you who I was with. In fact, I am not with a girlfriend, but with a boyfriend. He waits anxiously to meet you._

_How’s next week sound?_

_Dwight_

Dwight pressed send before even processing what he had typed. After that, he reached over and pressed the button on Jim’s phone, hanging up the call. Jim looked at him, letting the phone fall into his hand. 

“I was kind of on a call there, Dwight,” he said. 

“I have something more important than any call would ever be. Follow me.” Dwight stood up from his desk and started walking towards the front door of the office. 

Jim looked at Pam, who gave him a look back. He looked up at Dwight. “Are we going to chucky cheese?”

“Just come on idiot. I need to ask you a question.”


	2. Oh My God, Dwight's Kind of My Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim agrees to pretend to date Dwight, and that night, he tells Pam about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I didn't make it clear enough that Jim and Pam were already dating in this story? So I wanted to make that a little more clear this time. I know this chapter is a little short but I'm just writing this for fun :) enjoy!

“Absolutely not.”

Jim stood with his hands in his pockets at the bottom of the stairwell. He was leaning against the wall, and Dwight was pacing wildly in front of him. 

“Jim--”

“Dwight, I’m not going to pretend to date you.”

“It’s just dinner, Jim. You’d be so lucky to have dinner at my farm, anyway. I make an amazing curried goat stew, it’s really good for circulation and- that’s not the point. Listen, I need you to help me with this Jim. Just a night. Huh?”

Jim took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms. He looked to be in deep thought. “Gimme a second to think about it,” he said. He put a hand on his chin, stroking his non-existent beard. Then he snapped his fingers like he’d gotten an idea. “Got it!”

“You’ll do it?!”

“No I mean I was thinking about an excuse as to why I couldn’t. Turns out I have a monster truck rally to host this Saturday so I guess I’ll have to--”

“Jim.” He’d started to turn back up the stairs, but Dwight grabbed his hand and pulled him back. He was reveling in this, wasn’t he? “Do you want me to beg? Is that what you want?”

Jim paused for a second, then turned back to Dwight. “Yes.”

“I’m not gonna beg you, Jim.”

“Okay then, see you later.” He turned away again.

“Wait!” Dwight dropped to one knee and put his hands together into the air like he was praying. “Can you do this with me Jim? Come on, I’m begging now. See? Now I’m ruining my pants for you. Will you help me?”

Jim stared down at him, and he suddenly felt...small. A rare occurrence. His life was literally riding on Jim’s shoulders, and he could feel the pressure weighing down on him. If he lost his farm, what would he do? Start selling celery? He’d rather throw himself into Lake Scranton. How foolish of him to put himself in this position, but he couldn’t get around it now. The only person left to help him was Jim. 

Jim was smirking in that annoying, smug way he usually did. Like he was holding one over on Dwight. But in a way, he was. Saying no meant everything to Dwight, and Jim knew it. “Say please,” he said. 

Dwight felt his face go red. He had to keep himself from gritting his teeth. “Come on Jim.”

“Just say please, it’ll only take a second.” 

Dwight looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching. Then he looked back up at Jim, who was loving every bit of this. He pondered refusing, but his knee was starting to go stiff, and he knew he had no other options. _Just swallow your pride for a second,_ he told himself. _You’ll get back at him later. It’s just one night._

He took a deep breath in and let it out in a hiss. “Please Jim. Please help me.” 

Jim looked to be pondering for a while. He looked up at the ceiling, down the stairs, around the room. Then back at Dwight. He sighed, like it was a great burden to be so annoying. “Okay, fine.”

Dwight jumped up. “Really?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Dwight pumped his fists in the air, whooping. He almost jumped to hug Jim, but he didn’t. He’d save that for dinner with his mother. “Thank you Jim! Thank you,” he said, not realizing how strained his voice had become. 

Jim leaned forward and tapped his cheek with his finger. “Now plant one right here.” Dwight scoffed and walked back up the stairs, leaving Jim smiling up after him, satisfied. 

Only then did it dawn on him what exactly he’d just agreed to. 

_____

"You did what?"

Pam was sitting on their bed in Jim's apartment. It was nearing 9 o'clock at this point, but Jim had such a hard time processing what he did with Dwight that he had to call Pam and tell her. Trooper that she was, she was over in an instant, and listened all the way up until she heard him tell her that he said 'yes'.

"He looked _so_ pathetic Pam, what was I supposed to do?" Jim was slowly pacing around his room, door closed. God forbid he let his roommate hear. "And I'm not going to _do_ anything. It’s just dinner, and I'm sorry I didn't ask first but--"

Pam chuckled. "No, it's okay. It's not like it's real but--that's kind of crazy." Jim looked at her as she continued, "I mean, you've seen Dwight. And now you’re agreeing to meet the thing that _made_ Dwight?" 

Jim paused for a second, looking around his room. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a noise between a laugh and a groan. “Oh man.”

He wasn’t sure what went through him today. It was just so sudden, with Dwight basically dragging him into the hallway and down the stairs. And during his explanation, he was sputtering and pacing and scratching the back of his neck, looking at anything else _but_ Jim--it was a part of Dwight he'd never seen before. Dwight was always so annoyingly self assured, that seeing anything less than that just threw him off guard. He looked so…

Pathetic wasn't the word now that he thought about it. Desperate. He looked desperate, like Jim was his only hope. He had to say yes. 

Jim sat on his bed next to Pam, who leaned into him. He snaked a shoulder around her and they both stared at his Rush poster on the other side of his room. "Well," he said, "I can't really back out now." 

"I'm sure you'll be fine. It's just one night, right?"

"Yeah. Just gotta fake my way through it." 

There was a pause between them, then Pam grinned. "You know what I think this means?"

"What?"

She pulled away from him so she could see his face as she said, "I think it means you like Dwight."

"What? No," Jim said indignantly, standing up from his bed. Pam was nodding, satisfied with herself.

"Yes, I think it means you secretly want him to be happy--"

"Pam, come on that's not--"

"Admit it!"

"He makes my life miserable--"

"Admit it Jim!" 

“Pam--”

 _“Jim.”_ Pam stood up from the bed and grabbed his hands. She looked very amused, but also very stern, like she meant what she was saying. Her mouth was still drawn in a smile, but her eyes were narrow and earnest. “Why else would you have said yes?”

Jim stammered. “B-because I made him get on his knees and _beg_ me.”

“That’s just you messing with him,” Pam said with a wave of her hand. “You could’ve said no afterwards, but you didn’t.” Jim started to say something, but Pam put her hand up. “You said yes because you care about him, and you want him to be happy, _and--!”_ She pointed at him-- “Because you’re his friend.”

“His _friend?_ Pam, come on. He’s not my friend. I’m just doing this to- to get him- uh..” Jim tried to come up with a non serious, inconsequential reason that he agreed. That he agreed to pretend to be dating Dwight. That he agreed to pretend to be dating Dwight so he could go in front of Dwight’s mother and talk about how much they love each other and eat his weird beet based dinner and probably stay the night at his _farm--_

“Your face is telling me that you realize I’m right,” said Pam.

Jim didn’t realize how long he’d been standing there in a spiral until he felt Pam’s arms around his shoulders. “I’m still not gonna say it out loud,” Jim said, halfway staring into space. 

Pam kissed his cheek. “That’s fine, as long as we all know it’s true.” She turned around and started to make her way out of Jim’s room. 

“Hey, Pam?” Jim reached up and grabbed her hand. “Could you stay? I don’t know if--” he laughed-- “if I can go into work tomorrow if you don’t. I will definitely chicken out.”

“I packed a bag, don’t worry.” Pam stepped out of his doorway and grabbed something from the floor. It was a duffle bag. Part of her heart dotted pajama pants were hanging out of the opening. “Always come prepared.”

Jim smiled. “You’re the best.”

“I know.”


	3. Morning Cup of Joe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwight gives Jim some homework for next week's dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how quickly the next chapter will come--what with college and all, but hey! I'm just writing this for fun, so we'll see! Thank you to those who have read so far.

Jim came into work that next morning with a puzzled look. As soon as he walked in, he noticed a large, dusty, red book taking up much of the space in front of his computer. It looked like it was 800 pages long. And made in the prehistoric era. 

He dropped his satchel next to his desk and shot a look at Pam. She shrugged. 

When he looked back, he saw Dwight coming out of the kitchen, two cups in hand, both steaming. “Oh, good, you’re finally here,” he said, walking over. Then he muttered, “Took you long enough.” He set one cup of steaming liquid on his own desk, then one on Jim’s. 

Jim stared at the cup. It was the one he always used--how did Dwight know that? “Uh, thanks, I guess.” He sat down, and looked at the book. “What is this?”

“If you’re going to dinner with Hedda Schrute, then you need to know the Schrute history, and that’s the complete set.” Dwight took a long hard swig of his coffee, making an annoyingly loud sound of satisfaction. 

Jim blew the cover of the book, and a nice plume of dust hit the screen of his computer. He coughed, waving it away. “I didn’t know there were sets of Schrute history.”

“Three sets, four volumes, and one translation into German.” Dwight took the book and flipped through it until he landed on a page. Then he dumped it back on Jim’s desk, pointing a finger at the title near the top. “You need to memorize this book from front to back starting here. If my mother is going to like you, then you need to impress her with your knowledge of Schrute Farms and the Schrute name.” 

Jim read the title of the page Dwight had pointed out. It read _“The Battle of Schrute Farms--1800s to 1960s”._ The type looked like it was handwritten--smudges, misspelled words, with the lines crunched together and barely any spaces between the words. Some of the lines even ended in scribbles that were impossible to read. “Dwight there’s no way I’ll be able to memorize all this. Or--read it.”

Dwight rolled his eyes. “If you put as much time into reading as you do flirting with Pam, then you should be able to get it done fairly quickly.”

Jim bit his tongue and glanced over at Pam, who gave him a look that said to drop it. He tried to read a couple paragraphs, but he was already getting a headache. He decided he would read it later. “I’ll look at it tonight,” he said, closing the book after marking a page with a blank piece of copier paper. He picked the book up (that felt like it weighed as much as a small bear) and kicked it under his desk. 

“You have a week to memorize it. The dinner will be next Saturday at 7, at my farm.” Dwight took another long drink from his coffee, and he started to type on his computer. “Although tomorrow you’ll have to stop by after work for some lessons.”

“Lessons?”

Dwight looked at him like he was stupid. “You want to pretend to be a Schrute? You have to know how to act like one. And dress like one.” He eyed Jim up and down. “You look like an English teacher that just got laid off.” 

“Aw, thanks man.” Jim shook it off, concluding that he would just keep his head down and get it over with. One week was short. He could make it. He’d made it through worse. And most of that ‘worse’ was at the hands of Dwight anyway. So this shouldn’t be too hard.

He opened his spreadsheet for the day and started to get to work, reaching for his cup of coffee. Jim blew on it slightly and took a sip. Immediately, his mouth was filled with something bitter, grainy, and earthy. He spit it back into the cup and coughed. “What the hell is that?” 

When he looked over, Dwight was finishing his own cup, and set it down on the desk with a defined thud. “Beetroot coffee Jim. A common drink in the Schrute household. Some use beetroot powder to make it, but those people are frauds. Real beet farmers make it with freshly ground beetroot.”

“Jesus, that’s revolting.” He pushed the cup away from him. “You don’t put anything in it?”

“Real Schrutes take it black, Halpert. Our taste buds don’t need to be coddled like yours. What a baby.”

Jim coughed again. He thought some of the beetroot grains made it down his windpipe. “You could have told me at least.”

Dwight pointed at the coffee. “You going to finish that?” Jim shook his head no, and Dwight gladly took it, chugging it down swiftly. He wiped a dribble of red-brown coffee off his chin. “Delicious.”

Jim stood from his desk. “I’ll go make my own coffee, but thanks.”

“Wait,” said Dwight. He put his hand on Jim’s shoulder and eased him back into his seat. “I’ll go make it, all right?” His tone firmed. “Since your baby taste buds can’t handle real coffee, I’ll make your little girl version.”

Jim looked up at him, halfway amused. “You don’t know how I like my baby coffee though.” 

Dwight scoffed and turned to the kitchen, muttering on his way. When he was out of earshot, he turned to Pam, who was clearly trying to hold back laughter. "Pam, what the hell did I sign up for?"

"I don't know, but this is all rather cute." 

"Cute?" 

"Has Dwight ever offered to make you coffee?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "A small gesture compared to me having to read an entire odyssey about Dwight's ancient family." 

"Still nice though."

"I guess." Jim looked at the empty cup. There were still reddish grains around the rim. "For all I know he just tried to poison me." 

"But he drank it right after you."

Jim paused. "That's true." 

Pam snorted, and typed a little on her keyboard before saying lowly, "I know he's intense, but it seems like he's _trying_ to be nice about it. You are doing him a favor, after all." 

"I guess." 

Jim quieted and did a little bit of work for a few moments before Dwight came back from the kitchen holding a new mug. It was a mug that had Stanley's face on it--the one Kelly gave him, no doubt. When Jim looked over at Stanley's desk, he saw that Stanley was drinking out of a dark grey mug. A free mug's a free mug, Jim guessed. 

"Here, _baby."_ Dwight set the cup down so aggressively that the liquid almost spilled out. 

Jim took it, holding the cup with both hands. "What did you put in it this time? Ground cricket?" He took a sip of the coffee, fully expecting it to taste just as disgusting as the first cup. But actually, it was pleasant. With just enough cream and sugar that it tasted...normal.

He looked at Dwight, hesitant. "How do you know how I take my coffee?" 

Dwight didn't even look in his direction as he spoke. "Two creams, two sugars--like it's so hard to remember."

Jim looked at Pam, then back at Dwight. "Yeah but I've never...told you that."

Dwight rolled his eyes so hard he ended up staring at the ceiling. "I have the eyes of a hawk Jim, it's not exactly hard to spot." 

“Hm.” Jim took another long sip of his coffee. It went down warm and smooth, and the edge of the cold that lingered from him being outside in the morning air started to fade. He smiled. “So what I’m hearing,” he said, “Is that you did something nice for me without being asked to.”

Dwight side eyed him, grumbling, “Yeah right.”

“Does that make us friends, Dwight?” Jim tried to hide his grin under the brim of his coffee mug. Pam covered her snickering with a cough. 

“We are not _friends,_ we are a subordinate and a superior. And if you continue interrupting me I will be writing you up and reporting you to _my_ superior.”

“Which is me.”

Dwight faltered. “Y- we-- just zip it.” He turned to his work and continued to type. 

Jim went to say something again, but he heard Michael’s office door open, so he quieted. “Jim-balaya, I need you for a second.”

“For sure.” Jim stood up, and looked at Dwight again, maybe for a second too long, before turning around and walking into Michael’s office.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, why not leave a comment and let me know what you think! I'd love to hear your thoughts on how I can continue the story.


End file.
